


Let us soar together

by sycamoretree



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drama & Romance, Dwori - Freeform, M/M, Orwal - Freeform, Wing Kink, Wingfic, week of cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycamoretree/pseuds/sycamoretree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Erebor is reclaimed and restored, Gandalf casts a spell over the Company but this can be a blessing as much as a curse, especially to one warrior and one scribe. (Written for Week of Clichés for the Dwori ship. My chosen cliché is wings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 0-1

**Day 1**

Dwalin cursed the wizard under his breath as he struggled to pass through the doorway. It was hard reaching the handle, pushing open the heavy door, and crossing the threshold with wings that seemed to have too great a span and not being flexible enough to bend as he pleased.

Gandalf had visited Erebor yesterday and clearly the dwarves, the old Company especially, had injured the ancient wizard somehow, though Dwalin still couldn’t figure it out, just like he couldn’t figure out how to elegantly pass through a simple but infuriating door!

* * *

 

**Day before Day 1**

In the evening at a loud feast where Thorin negotiated some business with his guest, Gandalf had suddenly darkened until he resembled an ominous cloud of thunder.

The grey wizard had declared with a booming voice that the dwarves present should learn to consider other people’s opinions and needs, learn to respect other beings in Middle-Earth, and finally learn to tread more carefully lest they hurt others and themselves.

Thorin had gotten up from his seat in indignation at the outburst while the other dwarves stared mutely at the enraged wizard, but the king didn’t get to say anything before Gandalf moved his staff in a sweeping motion so it pointed at each of the assembled dwarves and muttered something.

Then he turned to Thorin and stated in a more normal tone, “For a fortnight you shall learn this lesson and then I will return and set things back to normal. Goodbye, Thorin Oakenshield.”

In a burst of smoke, the wizard vanished and the dwarves demurely discussed what had transpired; a little nervous about the staff, but decided after a while since nothing extraordinary seemed to have happened in the feasting hall that it would be a pity to let steaming stew and roasted meat grow cold on the plates.

The feast continued but Dwalin had regarded Thorin carefully, as was his duty as the king’s bodyguard and commander of the vanguard that saw to the safety of the crown and the kingdom. But Thorin had snorted, emptied his pint of ale and had only been in a sour mood for a short while before he became interested in the elaborate joke Bofur was telling the Company.

But unrest troubled Dwalin somewhat for the rest of the evening, and well into the night when he climbed into bed and thought back on the angry wizard and his hasty departure.

Dwalin didn’t like what he didn’t understand or couldn’t see the workings of, and he especially didn’t like when a wizard pointed a staff at all his friends. Ori… eh… _his friends_ , shouldn’t be subjected to a wizard’s devilry while enjoing a good meal and happy moments.

* * *

 

**Day 1**

Eventually sleep must have found Dwalin, because he woke up bleary and sore on his belly.

The warrior groaned when he felt constricting material against his body and something soft tickling his nostrils. He must have twisted his sheets again and punched the pillows in his sleep until he was both caught and covered in feathers.

He sneezed once and reached for his handkerchief on the night-stand. The movement felt stiff through his shoulder and he felt an uncomfortable stretch in his back. Had he really exerted himself so much in the training yard yesterday?

Grimacing at the signs of old age taking hold of his body, Dwalin decided that this was an awful morning.

Once he had wiped his nose and blinked his eyes more open he saw something fluttering in the air beside his head. He tilted his head more into the pillow to follow the shapes of very large feathers waving and arranged in an overlapping layer that alternated between a brown shade of dark walnut and a curve of milky-white in the middle of the feathers.

Dwalin frowned and started to think. His pillows definitely wouldn’t be stuffed with feathers this size. And any feathers he punched out of the pillows under the influence of disturbing dreams should logically fall the the ground and not stay tied together and wave in the air.

Concerned about the strange thing in his own bedchamber, by his very bed, Dwalin’s eyes darted to the night-stand drawer where he hid a sharp dagger. Was this a threat or a joke? But why hadn’t he heard anyone intruding? Did he begin to grow deaf as well? But even though he remained clearly awake, no attack came from behind.

Dwalin ventured a glance further over his shoulder and despite his impressive bulk; he felt a nervous flutter in his belly at the sight of a long and very big wing. What was this? But as he turned his head, the ache bloomed out through his shoulder blades and along his spine and the more he turned, the more the large wing was angled towards his pheriferal vision so he couldn’t study it closer.

Suddenly Dwalin felt his balance shifting violently and with a gasp he rolled out of bed and landed on his opposite shoulder. The thud on the stone floor sent a pang of pain through his hand and up his arm towards the joint of the shoulder, but then Dwalin registered that his hand was in fact pressed to his chest. And no sheet that should have gotten tangled around his body had followed his unexpected fall. Then what had hurt?

No laughter and no hiss were heard in the chamber so Dwalin assumed that he was in fact alone and wouldn’t be mocked or murdered by another creature. Grunting from the stinging in his not-hand, Dwalin rose to his knees and searched for the source of the pain by his other side.

A similar construction of feathers with a few ruffled and crooked met his eyes. It looked the same as the one on his other side, only mirrored. He looked the other way and confirmed that the other wall of feathers was still there and intact.

His features darkened at the thought of some scoundrel sneaking in somehow and fastening some device that would look like ridiculous wings on his very back while he was in nothing but his tunic and breeches in the dead of the night.

Dwalin reached with one hand to feel the bottom of the toy while the other reached over his opposite shoulder to inspect the top. What met him was a long tear in his tunic and solid, warm skin beneath that bulged along his spine and tense muscles before the skin was traded almost seamlessly for thick, sleak feathers.

Dwalin felt again, and again.

“What?” he breathed when no leather strap or rope or even glue was found on his back.

He had…

He wore a pair of…

No, this was impossible!

Frantically looking left and right and growing more agitated as the wings swayed along with his movement, Dwalin’s heart began to beat harder and he could scarcely breathe from the horror when a thud was heard and pain was transported from the wing closest to the bed into his back and shoulders. He had accidently rammed the wing against the bedframe and it hurt. It hurt…

Dwalin had to draw in air into his panicked lungs to be able to shout from agony and confusion. He lifted his hand near the injured wing and thankfully it stayed where it was so he could reach.

He gently followed the thickest arc made of bone and covered with something that definitely wasn’t dwarf skin. The arc was whole and ended in a feather that was a little bent and upon touching it, a shiver ran through Dwalin. He had found the spot he had hurt. Was this bad or would it heal on its own?

Suddenly feeling clammy from the horror attached to his own body, Dwalin lowered his gaze from the injured wing and got to his feet then stumbled back from the unexpected weight on his back, and promptly the wings began to sweep fast to keep him upright, which only sent him forward.

After having knocked over a chair and sent his axe polishing kit clattering to the floor, Dwalin found purchase by holding onto the pillar at the foot of his bed and hugging it to his chest.

He stayed there and panted until his feet found balance again but by now, his tunic was drenched in cold sweat and he felt whoosy. This was something strange and he couldn’t figure it out, because surely he couldn’t be the first dwarf in the whole of Middle-Earth that would one morning wake up and have wings on his back. That was preposterous because he was an ordinary dwarf and he differed not from his friends and…

With white cheeks, Dwalin recalled his common friends last night, how the only unusual thing happening lately was Gandalf yelling at them and pointing his staff. His staff… He had pointed it on every member of the Company.

“Mahal’s fire!” Dwalin gasped and turned his face to the door. What if…

If he woke up to this, then what did the others wake up to?

Dwalin could only hope that he had risen earlier than the rest when he stalked over to the door and wrenched it open. After a moment he partly managed with his new back muscles and partly with his hands to tug his wings closer to the back so he could pass through the opening. This was an emergency that warranted storming through the palace in his sleepwear, because frankly, Dwalin had no clue how to deal with the long feathers. At least he could tug his boots on before going.

The servants he met may stare and drop their trinkets, but Dwalin jogged through the corridors in the palace. Driven by duty and concern, he went for his king’s chamber first.

As he passed a carved opening in the corridor overlooking the great hall of Erebor below with homely dwellings on either side of the mountain, he heard a gut-wrenching scream echoing in the quiet hall.

The dwarves who woke early to tend to the cattle outside the mountain, the bakers, and a few playful dwarflings stopped their chores and stood shocked in the middle of the paths. Dwalin looked to the homes on the western side and swallowed. He knew that the Ur family lived there.

He hadn’t had time to move from the spot before another scream sounded, this time from by the eastern side. Dwalin felt his stomach plummet and he sent a small prayer to Mahal that even though the Ri brothers lived there, they would be spared from this. They must, because they didn’t deserve to meet the revenge of a wizard.

Ori was so young and to become disfigured like this; like a monster…

Dwalin feared that if he with his warrior strength struggled to keep upright and move where he wanted, such heavy wings would slowly but surely weight down the tender scribe until his body gave up.

“No, this mustn’t happen,” Dwalin muttered and forced himself to continue towards Thorin’s rooms. He could bear this trouble until Thorin found a solution and Dwalin had faith that Thorin would, but Dwalin would do everything he could to spare Ori from his yoke if he was cursed just like Dwalin and the rest of the Company. That Dwalin vowed to himself as he jogged through the palace with wings rocking up and down.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 2**

Early that day, after the initial shock had faded somewhat from yesterday, the ravens of Erebor had been delighted upon seeing their returned king of the Durin line with dark wings.

Dwalin had accompanied the king and observed how the birds had croaked and flown around Thorin to inspect his wings at all angles before they accepted to carry out messages to the other kingdoms Erebor had business with. Thorin ordered the cancelling of meetings with royal emissaries and traders for a fortnight due to a harmless but contagious illness that had befallen him and his close friends.

Thorin may have not told the truth but no-one in Erebor could argue that he wasn’t indeed inconvenienced when he was supposed to rule his own kingdom while wearing wings for new limbs.

Most of the members of the Company had run to the palace in the morning yesterday after discovering their united curse and stayed there for the entire day discussing things.

The meeting had been held while standing, because everyone had trouble fitting the wings in chairs beside each other around a table. Together they had reasoned that there was nothing to do but wait for Gandalf to return in a fortnight as he had promised.

Gloin suggested taking a sturdy axe and simply chop off the extremities and be done with it, instead of suffering for many days but his brother had stopped him.

Oin had argued loudly, “For all we know, these wings came from a wizard’s spell, and it would be dangerous to meddle in wizard business, especially if it involves our own transfigured bodies. Who knows; we might die from trauma and blood loss if we attempt to remove the wings by force.”

They all grew pale at this statement and Thorin promptly turned and commanded Kili to stop trying to toss a ball up into the air and hit it with his own, very ruffled, wing and send it straight against Fili who was ready to sway his body and hit the ball back at his brother, using both his shimmering wings like the ambidexterous dwarf he was.

Thorin then asked Oin in a proactive manner, “Oin, if anyone is injured badly; can you treat him?”

“Why, the wizard Radagast taught me a thing or two about healing birds, Your Majesty. I think I can do something, but I advise you to stay out of trouble. I can’t promise I know the remedy if you hurt yourself. Dwarves don’t often have dealings with birds. There’s little knowledge of them in the books of old.”

Dwalin glanced guiltily at both ends of his own pair of wings where the feathers remained uneven and he supposed that they would need care and tending to, much like his armour that needed to bend right at the joints and have a smooth, even surface to protect him better in battle.

But as questions had been debated by the gathered group, Dwalin felt worried by the absence of the Ri brothers. He had after all heard a scream from their neighbourhood and they hadn’t shown themselves in the palace yet.

* * *

 That was one major reason to why this day Dwalin left Thorin to ruling after meeting the ravens and went to the training yard of the vanguard to order a lieutenant to stand in for him as commander. Dwalin didn’t feel fit to lead the guards while stumbling around and hitting walls.

Still, he had Thorin’s trust to remain his bodyguard despite their predicament, which counted for something, he supposed.

After he had managed to free many hours of his day, Dwalin walked across Erebor towards the neighbourhood where the Ri brothers resided. He attracted many stares and whispers as he passed dwarrows who had recently heard the news of the bewitched but unharmed Company.

But since Dwalin appeared calm and mostly untroubled by his wings that thankfully stayed near his back and didn’t stretch on a whim, the citizens sensed no cause to fear for their king or his friends. Still, they certainly were a sight with their large feathers that they had fitted through long slits in the backs of their tunics, vests and cloaks. Better to damage some fabric than walk around half-naked nowhere near the hot forges, the Company had reasoned.

Dwalin approached the home of the Ri brothers and knocked firmly on the door before taking a polite step back and waiting.

The tiny shutter in the door was opened and someone looked at him for a moment before it was closed again. Another moment passed as the door was being unlocked, during which Dwalin slumped more and more and got damp in his palms out of trepidation, because he never knew what would be the reaction of the erratic elder brothers.

At last the door swung open and revealed Dori standing with flushed cheeks in a morning robe that was tied around his waist but which bulged considerably along his back and made him resemble an old, bowed dwarf.

Dwalin bent his head in greeting but as he straigtened again, his gaze fell behind Dori and discovered Ori leaning sideways against the wall of the gloomy hallway.

Dwalin grew worried that Ori already felt the additional weight on his body unbearable and needed steady support to remain standing. Ori looked at him with tired features but got a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“Good morning, master Dori, master Ori. I wanted to pay a visit after yesterday’s trouble,” Dwalin began and noticed how Dori’s gaze went from skeptical to murderous.

“Trouble? _Trouble_?! For Durin’s sake; trouble is you wanting milk for tea but lacking coins. Trouble is stepping through a hole in the street and injuring your ankle. Trouble is _not_ waking up to _wings_ attached to your _body_!”

Dwalin’s ears chimed after the shrill scream from a frustrated dwarf who clearly wished for someone, anyone, to lash out at. Well, Dwalin was here on a personal mission so he guessed he had to endure being a convenient target and just take it. At least Dori still had spirit, even if he hollered and spat with bared teeth.

“The Company discussed this yesterday. We suppose Gandalf is behind this and that he is the one able to make them go away. I’m sorry that your family didn’t come to the palace as well to attend the meeting,” Dwalin explained slowly but Dori balled up his hands into fists by his sides and growled, “And how do you propose we should have crossed the kingdom with these exposed for everyone to see? We remained at home yesterday.”

Dwalin raised his brows and stated carefully, “Then what about today? Because Nori has yet to make an appearance, so I guess he’s left the house.”

“Nori has business to attend to; even though I doubt anyone would want to do business with him now,” Dori replied snarkily and crossed his strong arms to obviously ward off Dwalin from crossing their threshold if the notion hit him.

Dwalin chewed on his lip and wished for Balin’s company since his older brother knew better how to cajole angry dwarves with diplomatic words. But he was there alone and Ori still watched him with hopeful eyes but a sad mouth.

Dwalin cleared his throat and gestured at the youngest brother. “If Nori is outside, perhaps Ori can go out, too? I bet the air and a stroll around Erebor would do him good. If Nori works, why can’t Ori?”

Ori sent a sharp look at Dori’s back which only Dwalin saw and he had to contain an urge to chuckle over the fact that Ori had probably had the same thought and voiced it to Dori before.

But Dori turned and caught Ori by the arm and briskly pulled him closer to the door and the joined pair of brothers swayed from the sudden shift in balance, caused by their wings that were fastidiously covered by fabric.

* * *

 In the daylight, Ori looked even worse. Ori was compeletly covered with a blanket, except for his neck and head. He looked pale and suffered from shivers, though he must be heated by the thick blanket. But he didn’t look feverish judging by the white, freckled cheeks, so Dwalin concluded that the shivers came from pain and not illness. Dwalin could only occasionally peek at the brown downy feathers between the thick folds by Ori’s bare shoulders.

Ori in turn seemed to do his own observation of Dwalin, since his face moved along with his clear eyes over the shape of Dwalin’s feathers. Dwalin might have raised his pair of wings a little higher just to prove the powerful strength in his back, like a preening rooster.

"Hullo, Mr. Dwalin," Ori let out absently, since his attention seemed directed towards Dwalin's wings. Dwalin contented himself to bowing his head, suddenly feeling dry in the mouth and fearing his voice would fail him if he spoke while Ori was staring at him without noticing the naked, left shoulder being bared from the blanket, and in the presence of Dori no less.

But the narrow lines and paleness on Ori’s face worried Dwalin and he guessed that being cooped up in a dark home with nothing useful to do did more harm to the young, understimulated dwarf than to his eldest brother who was more the burrowing and nesting type of dwarf. Or, erm, the more _homely_ and meticulous dwarf. Dwalin had never before used the word 'nesting' as a way to describe a dwarf, so he was surprised with what his mind had supplied him with.

“Mr. Dori; how fares your brother?” Dwalin asked politely even though he would rather address Ori directly, but he didn’t dare to test Dori’s patience this odd morning that must feel awful to the orderly dwarf.

Dori snorted and hefted the blanket further over Ori’s shoulders but missed how his brother flinched and Dwalin pressed his lips together in sympathy at the uncomfortable feel of feathers bending up the wrong way Ori must be experiencing.

“Surely Ori is warm by now. Perhaps the blanket is unnecessary, since we aren’t suffering from a cold. One can fit the wings through tears in tunics,” Dwalin suggested carefully but that was his mistake.

Dori stopped fiddling with the hem of the blanket and raised his head in a terrifyingly slow way before a storm he wasn't prepared for hit Dwalin.

“Do you mean he should _flaunt_ this _abomination_ before all of Erebor?! We’re _dwarves_ , in Durin’s name! We’re meant for seeking out livelihood below the rock, not soar in the sky like overdimensioned fairies! This is unnatural! I’ll never offer Gandalf some tea ever again after this horrible ordeal has been sorted, if it ever will be! What share in a gold treasure can pay for silenced tongues in a whole mountain? There’ll be _gossiping_!”

Dwalin stroke a hand through his beard and replied solemnly, “It’s only for a fortnight until Gandalf returns. Oin has offered to help us until then if we ever find ourselves in need of aid.”

“How will Ori be able to work now and cross the mountain to the library? How will I be able to serve tea when I crush every cup I own with these blasted things? Tell me that, Dwalin, son of Fundin, and until you have a good answer you may not visit this house again!”

With his infamous strength, Dori threw the door shut and left Dwalin sagging on the porch. He heard Ori arguing faintly with his brother but after a while the household fell quiet and nothing else happened.

Dwalin walked away but thought that he could find a way to see Ori another day to hear how he dealt with his changed state. Clearly Dori was out of his depth and handled the situation like he usually did; by staying within the safety of his home to recuperate with his family around him. But this strategy might not be the wisest this time for Ori, at least.

A commander had responsibility to look out for all his soldiers and Ori was a dear friend to Dwalin. Surely Thorin too would be upset if Ori remained in pain, and thus it was Dwalin’s task as a bodyguard to inquire after Ori. It must be, right; for the sake of Thorin’s peace of mind and Ori’s health?

At least Dori and Ori now knew how to seek help from Oin if they suffered worse.

However, Dwalin couldn’t deny that the thought of Ori suffering at all affected him as he spent the rest of the day supervising guards and barking warnings at them to have to run extra laps around the mountain if they continued slacking idly on watch duty. It felt like he had no patience nor willingness to overlook tiny mistakes; if only because that distracted him from the memory of Ori's smothered wings and pale, sorrowful face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is going on with Ori? Well, it's not like Dwalin to let well enough alone without a thorough investigation. The next chapter will be up tomorrow. Thanks for the kudos and kind comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 3-5**

The next day Bofur sought out Dwalin for a word but after hearing the news from the Ri household, Dwalin tipped his head and observed the too happy dwarf with the surprisingly elegant wings that might be ordinarily grey-brown on the outer side but had white streaks that seemed to illuminate the dwarf between them if he spread them wide. Considering Bofur's ridiculous pointy hat, the wings of the crested tit suited him.

“Why are you above ground and not working in the mines by now?” Dwalin inquired as an ending note.

Bofur beamed as he reasoned, “I can’t fit my wings into the shaft lifts. The foreman agrees with me. No mining in eleven days, until I’m myself again. And I must stay away from the forging hall as well so I don’t scorch my pretty feathers. Oin wanted us to stay unharmed, after all. So, I’ve got no work to do.”

Bofur looked very pleased with himself. Dwalin raised his eyebrows, looking rather unimpressed.

“But there’s nothing wrong with the original pair of limbs you have, is there? Start making toys again. I trust your delicate body can handle a block of wood?”

Bofur bristled at the implied weakness and tugged his hat over most of his face before he stomped off, though everyone knew how much Bofur enjoyed giving toys to dwarflings.

But Bofur had at least had time to share what he knew with Dwalin. According to Nori who Bofur had talked to, Dori had given in after many promises that Nori would protect Ori from any teasing if Ori was to work. This made it far easier for Dwalin to find Ori and survey how he fared with his wings. Or so Dwalin thought.

It turned out that few attendants in the library knew where the famous scribe resided at the moment, but they were having faith in Ori probably researching the ancient history of dwarves contained in the old tomes and discovering more knowledge that would serve Erebor. Ori was a dutiful librarian and scribe, but also a secluded one these days it would seem.

It took Dwalin two days wheedling until he simply bribed the chief librarian with a promise of lending him two young recruits from the guard for seven days for helping with building and erecting new, heavy bookcases that were much needed when more and more books began to trickle inside Erebor as plenty of dwarves returned from the exile carrying written treasures.

After the negotiation had resulted in a favourable deal, the librarian finally told him of Ori’s favorite spot.

* * *

  **Day 6**

Dwalin found Ori hiding away in a nook far back in the reconstructed library, with a blanket thrown over his shoulders to cover his lithe form and his wings. He was sitting by a desk with a lamp illuminating the corner next to towering bookcases, reading a tome eagerly before noticing that he was being watched.

“Mr Dwalin?”

Dwalin tilted his head and felt more balanced than he had in days since Ori seemed healthy.

“Why are you dwelling here in the gloom? The light is better in the book hall near the entrance.”

Ori fingered on the delicate pages and muttered, “I don’t like the attention I’m getting lately.”

Dwalin bristled indignantly. “Is anyone bothering you? I can deal with them, or I could tell Nori…”

Ori met his gaze and the way his hair swayed before the lamp made it glow like copper in the light.

“No… well, gossip has spread and many are looking or asking curious questions about my… But I find myself only wanting some peace and privacy.”

“Is that why you’re concealing your wings and secluding yourself to dark corners? To escape stares? Because I thought fabric over them felt restricting and uncomfortable. My bed is stripped bare so I don’t get tangled at night,” Dwalin advised before Ori blushed, and Dwalin cursed himself for bringing up the current state of his bed in front of such a proper young dwarf.

But then Ori picked on a nail and looked up with large, solemn eyes that bewitched Dwalin. “Are wings something to be ashamed of? Am I a scandal now?”

Bewildered, Dwalin moved closer to the table and took a seat opposite Ori. This appeared to require a lot of his time, though he had plenty to spare these days, especially on Ori.

“They may be strange, but no, not something shameful,” Dwalin replied slowly.

Ori played with a frayed edge of the blanket.

“Dori finds them awkward and wants to cover mine. He says this curse might ruin my reputation and prospect of finding a… a mate,” Ori stammered with his eyes on the floor.

Dwalin found himself leaning closer over the surface to get Ori’s attention, but he kept his hands under the table to not be tempted to caress the scribe’s round cheek. Ori looked sad and in need of advice rather than physical comfort, so Dwalin would strive to be a wise mentor and listening friend right now.

“Ori, I’m certain that Dori just detests the wings because he can’t understand this magic that affects us. That doesn’t mean he detests _you_. It’s only temporary. Just count the days. I’m sure you will have a bright future nevertheless. Think of this as another adventure the Company has to go through.”

Ori lifted his gaze and closed the book carefully. “You’re right; this could be another chronicle for me to document in the book I’m writing about the Company. I must… I must start making notes about us all, how we live with these… wings, and maybe I can add… Oh, Mr. Dwalin; I feel quite busy now. Too busy to worry about what others might think, I suppose. Was that your plan all along? To distract me?”

Ori’s rambling and sudden question had Dwalin smiling when he shook his head. “I merely wished to see whether you coped with the wings, lad. Though I’m glad if you feel encouraged now to study the Company. A fortnight is a long time to feel miserable.”

Ori met his smile with a gentler one and brushed his fringe aside with his hand so more freckles were visible on his face.

“I admire your spirit. But I hope thoughts of me haven’t taken up too much of your time these last few days. You have important work to do with the guard.”

Dwalin waved a hand in the air in dismissal. “A lieutenant is relieving me of my duties until I’m back to normal. I’m supervising the recruits and inspecting the regiment but mostly, I spend my days walking around in Erebor and learning the whims of my feathers.”

Dwalin leaned even closer against Ori’s form and noted the startled inhale from the younger dwarf. To admit the next embarrassing thing required proximity, thought Dwalin, but to watch Ori’s eyes trained on him was a welcome delight.

“I’ll confess this only to you: I stumbled over the wings in the training hall two days ago when I tried to spar. I can scarcely fight with these blocking my view and throwing me off balance. I’m mortified to say that I might be the lousiest warrior in Erebor at the moment.”

Ori drew back against the back of his chair with pure horror on his face. “Surely you don’t believe that!”

Dwalin smirked. “No, but I can tell you; I’m not very good.”

“Frankly, if you‘ll allow me, Mr. Dwalin, I doubt that.”

On the inside, Dwalin was touched by Ori’s conviction of his competence, but instead of commenting on that, he boldly stood and stepped around the corner of the table before leaning his hips against the surface and looking down at the scribe beside him. Dwalin placed his hands flat behind him so he could bow without the wings disturbing him.

This close, he noticed how Ori’s grin suddenly froze while Dwalin rumbled pleasantly, “There’s only one way of finding out, and prove before naïve youngsters that warriors are in fact not invincible. You should come and watch me in the training yard one morning, when no-one else is awake and can see me fail.”

“I have duties in the library in the days,” Ori stammered nervously.

“So come in the evening,” Dwalin coaxed.

“We’ll see,” Ori stated finally but brushed a strand of his fringe behind a pointy ear and smiled down at the book he was holding.

* * *

 Deciding on a change of subject, Dwalin returned to his seat and arranged his wings so the tips were hanging down on either side of the seat.

He then asked, “What are you busying yourself with now?”

“Well, this is the seldom visited section about nature. I mean plants and animals, since rocks and creatures have their own sections in the library. Anyway, I’ve read about the birds in the kingdom, residing on the mountain or on the plain and in forests or the mountain slopes. I’ve made plenty of interesting discoveries. We are all equipped like those birds, and their wings suit us in a way.”

Now more focused on Ori’s analysis than the way his copper beard swayed when he talked, Dwalin raised his brows in honest interest.

“How come? Explain to me, please. I’m not as well-versed in avian knowledge as you.”

Although Ori flushed red and bent his head so his nose almost touched the leather of the book cover, he answered readily with a melodic voice that was easy to listen to.

“Well, Thorin is of the Durin line and so, he is one of few dwarves the ravens of Erebor agree to speak to. His dark hair may gleam of grey, but also blue. Our king sports raven wings; a royal attribute where the Durin line is concerned.”

Ori opened the book and paged to a particular chapter where illustrations of birds filled the pages. He pointed at a raven and Dwalin had to admit now that he thought about it, that Thorin indeed bore resemblance to the talking ravens in the mountain. Listening intensely to the information Ori was able to give him, Dwalin moved his chair to Ori’s side and peered down at the book.

Ori showed him another bird.

“Kili is a rook; surviving and finding food on the plain and clever when faced with problems. He has very silky, shiny feathers, even for his kind of bird; much like his own hair that is impossible to braid and keep beads. Now Fili is another predator… Here! He is the red-shouldered hawk, since there is a reddish hue to his golden hair in certain light. The hawk’s golden wings, tinted with brown and white, makes them perfect as camouflage, and Fili was often a scout before the reclaiming of Erebor. He was a master of hiding in the plain, watching over the land with sharp eyes, and hunting food. Remember how much rabbit and deer he and Kili brought back to camp during the journey? They have the skill and intelligence of predatory birds, like the warriors they are. Perhaps only a dwarf directly in the Durin line can have raven wings,” Ori finished and got a look of musing.

“What about me? I’m a cousin to the king and of the Durin line, but I don’t have raven wings,” Dwalin noted and by now, Ori’s eyes burned bright like jewels when he looked at him.

“You, Mr. Dwalin, have the wings of the golden eagle; another noble bird. Golden ember on the upper side. Dark-brown feathers like rich syrup on the underside mostly, with golden streaks that speak of the bird’s value.”

Dwalin self-consciously raked a hand over his bare crown and replied unsurely while glancing at his wings over his shoulder, “Though, I’ve traded hair for tattoos. I’m an old eagle.”

“That’s not true!” Ori protested loudly, then looked down at the book and argued softly, “If you let me read this, I’m sure you’ll appreciate your bird more. ‘ _The golden eagle is of course a bird of prey, like a warrior of sorts. Some of the eagles can even fell a wolf. It’s agile and fast when hunting, and has strong feet. The eagle secures large territories for a home, and often builds nest in high cliffs.’_ You reside high up in the mountain, within the royal palace and near the king. And you patrol the vast area outside the mountain. You have strong hands for feet in your case. I know that some creatures prefer to stay high up to be able to overlook the area below and know whatever threat which moves under them. And an eagle often finds a mate and couples stay together for many years, or until one of them dies. That proves the eagle’s loyalty, faithfulness, and care. All in all, I think this bird suits you perfectly, Mr. Dwalin.”

“Except that I have no mate,” Dwalin remarked huskily and Ori repeated neutrally, “Yes, except for that, but the qualities are still in you.”

The tale Ori had spun about the noble bird had transfixed Dwalin. Ori sounded so certain about Dwalin’s merits he himself had rarely reflected upon. Perhaps he did have assets that didn’t lie exactly in the swing of his axe, but in his personality. And perhaps those assets were indeed something to admire, to be attracted to. Perhaps he was even desirable to some dwarves.

Rather warm in his clothes now, Dwalin shook a little so his feathers rustled and he cleared his throat. He was more than eager to learn of Ori’s wings by now, which he hadn’t even seen for the way the blanket concealed them.

“You must have studied your own set of wings at some point in privacy, lad. What are you?”

Ori huffed with an awfully cynical tone and with downcast eyes he retorted, “I’m a tree sparrow. Nothing special. Very common. Dull colouring.”

“Oh, I hardly think that.”

“Well, this book doesn’t state anything particular about that bird. It’s just a usual, unexciting kind.”

Ori slammed the book shut derisevily but Dwalin quickly placed his hand over Ori’s on the book and held it down.

“Then the author of this book hasn’t been as studious in his research as you usually are. I’m sure there’s characteristics about the tree sparrow that does you credit. Just let me think.”

Ori’s hand remained still under Dwalin’s coarse palm and he tugged his beard before finding his answer after having come across several sparrow on his many marches and watch duties in the wild.

“The tree sparrows always cheer me up. They stay low on the ground and in bushes so I can have a good look at them up close. I find them lively and curious fellows. They are flitting around with sparks of energy, and they are intelligent too since they know when to come out and be curious and when to be quiet and still. Their song announce spring so they bring new hope like your generation that now is saved from the long exile. You are very important to the rebuilding of Erebor, Ori.”

Ori tilted his head up and wore a look of incomprehension.

“They are often prey. Helpless and defenceless like pitiful…” Ori argued meekly but Dwalin interrupted his self-hatred with a firm press of his hand.

“But they use their environment to hide and protect themselves. They must feel safe in bushes where few enemies can reach them. Do you feel safe in the winding labyrinth of bookcases?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s good for you. If you feel safe, then it’s easier to do a good job. That’s not too much to ask of a dwarf; for them to feel safe at work. And I hear from the chief librarian that you are one of the most esteemed dwarves here, and at such a young age… You are a genius, Ori, and far from common and dull. Let the others better suited for soldiering, like those with feathers from birds of prey have something to protect at home and embrace your trade.”

Ori nodded, then slid his hand from Dwalin’s and rose with the book clutched to his chest to keep the blanket from opening and sliding off his frame. Ori chuckled a little and Dwalin got to his feet as well.

“Here I am talking about trivial things and taking a far too long break when I’ve deserved none until luncheon. I really must get back to work and find the next book on birds. Though, I appreciate your visit. I’ve given me much to think about, Mr. Dwalin.”

“It was my pleasure, Ori,” Dwalin emphasized.

Before Ori went into a different path between bookcases than the one Dwalin had approached from, he turned and asked, “Perhaps I can come to the training yard tomorrow before dawn, and watch you spar for a while, if that’s alright?”

“The offer still stands for you, but I warn you; I will be a disappointment with these blasted wings tripping me.”

Ori let out another sweet chuckle and hitched the blanket up to his ears. “Nevertheless, I look forward to it.”

With a last shared smile, Dwalin left Ori in peace and whistled on his way back to the entrance of the library, only earning himself one harsh shushing from an indignant dwarf, and accidently sending a clutter transcripts from a desk down to the floor.

He swiftly shuffled together the documents, not minding the disrupted order of them since he had to flee the place before anyone discovered the commander of the vanguard sabotaging the library with his clumsy wings. But he had hope in his chest and would insist on teasing Thorin about his raven wings for the rest of the day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, they got a moment to themselves! Sorry for the wait; I got a nasty cold and went on a trip to Rome, but now I expect the next update to come next week. Ori is the Eurasian tree sparrow, but since there is no Eurasia in Middle-Earth, I had to remove that name, he he. Bofur is a European crested tit, because of his brownish tones on hair and clothes, and the pointy crest on its head that resembles Bofur’s “winged” hat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 8**

A few days later Dwalin noticed how well the Company was adapting to their additional limbs.

Fili and Kili spent a lot of time testing the limits and possibilities of wings as they caused mischief throughout the palace whenever Thorin wasn’t ordering them to perform princely duties.

Bofur happily helped his cousin Bifur making elaborate toys as if he had had many ideas under his hat while he toiled in the mines.

Nori remained sour about the fact that he wasn’t able to covertly cross the mountain without revealing his identity due to the large burden currently attached to his back.

Dori openly pretended to not hear when other dwarves mentioned his wings hidden under a blanket fashioned rather impressively with embroidery and draping.

As for Dwalin, he continued wielding axes in the safety and privacy of the training yard before dawn when he didn’t risk humiliation and a bruised pride every time he lost his balance or snagged the tips of the feathers during complicated maneuvers.

Sometimes Ori approached the fence around the training yard and watched him but they rarely exchanged many words. Ori was mostly sitting on a bench those mornings, or sitting at the counter or a desk in the library; neither exercising his wings nor legs.

Dwalin knew the damage to the mind and body of a working dwarf such passiveness could cause. And as always, the blanket was covering Ori’s lithe form.

The purpose, of that blasted blanket, Dwalin asked for one afternoon when he spotted Ori in the corridor behind the counter, concealed from view of those borrowing books but accessible for the dwarves working there to go and rest or have tea, or have meetings to discuss matters with the institution.

Ori was currently leaning his shoulder against the wall and moaned miserably as Dwalin approached caustiously. Ori wore the sturdy blanket again.

“The fabric hurts you; hurts the wings, doesn’t it?” Dwalin muttered with more growl than neutrality but it was brought on by concern.

Ori whipped his head in Dwalin’s direction and his eyes widened for a moment before he grimaced at the pain shuddering through his uncomfortable body.

“I think it’s best I wear this. The nights are colder now and I catch a cold so easily,” Ori tried to parry but Dwalin saw through the attempt to not answer his question. His shoulders sat high with brimming tension and the tops of his halfly folded golden-brown wings loomed high over his frame as he drew nearer Ori, not expecting to back off this time and allow Ori to escape without proper answers.

“Hmm. So it has nothing to do with wagging tongues? Mocking stares, perhaps? Is that why you hide in the back of the library like this?” Dwalin wondered just to be sure but Ori firmly shook his head and a few copper strands fell over his collarbones and framed his dejected look.

“No, but this darn blanket is smothering me. I feel so restricted and irksome and testy. I’m not fit for servicing customers right now. I thought a cup of tea would calm me down,” Ori complained with a nasal, almost whiny tone and Dwalin stepped even closer, able to offer a solution.

“I may know just the right remedy. Remember that you are not the only dwarf carrying wings. From here on; come to the rest of the Company for help and maybe we can help you solve issues. So… If I may?”

After getting a silent consent, Dwalin reached out slowly so Ori could follow the movements of his hands like a guarded animal in the wild.

With careful tugs, Dwalin unveiled Ori’s wings, then dropped the heavy blanket to the floor as if it had burnt him. Ori let out a sigh at the freed feathers that fluttered unhappily as Ori stretched them with care through the long gap in the beck of his tunic.

“I’m so sore,” he admitted with another groan and rolled his head rather nicely as Dwalin could take in freckles adorning his pale skin on the neck.

Contrary to Ori's previous opinion, Ori’s wings were far from uninteresting according to Dwalin’s roving eyes that took in the various shades of brown and the grey, almost purple undersides. The wings certainly matched Ori’s colours.

After clearing his tight throat, Dwalin proposed while looking ahead and behind to determine their privacy in the corridor, “I can offer some more help, if you’re inclined.”

Ori tilted his head sideways, considering him. “What kind of help?”

“Something the guards do to each other after long marches with heavy armour on. Just… step into my arms so I can reach.”

Ori folded his wings close to his back with considerable ease compared to Dwalin’s lumbering attempts. Dwalin embraced Ori and kept his wings around the half-bared smaller dwarf protectively because he, well, wanted to. His arms rested on Ori’s shoulders and thus his hands pressed over the vertical ridge from whence the wings sprouted.

It tinged when the edges of their feathers touched behind Ori and Ori visible shuddered when Dwalin stroke along the spine. Dwalin lessened the pressure of his palms and whispered near Ori’s ear, “Am I hurting you?”

Ori shook his head and audibly swallowed before murmuring, “No, it feels good. I feel safe with you.”

Dwalin asked with a hint of flirting, “Oh? Does it feel good with my hands on you?”

He tested his ability to please Ori by purposefully caressing the ridge again with the coarse callouses of his palm where the shaft of an axe usually resided.

Ori stiffened and drew in a sharp breath before he arched his back which pushed him closer into Dwalin’s embrace. Dwalin widened his eyes at the sight of the young dwarf being filled with unexpected but delightful pleasure. Dwalin felt his own pulse start to race as he spread his fingers and massaged the sensitive area wherever he found tense muscles and Ori melted against him, with sighs touching the bared skin on his neck and upper chest.

Dwalin noticed in the corner of his eye how his own left wing trembled just like his fingertips as he stimulated Ori’s back. Ori was very vocal during the massage and his tiny fists clenched and unclenched against Dwalin’s back.

“Oh, Mr. Dwalin, I…! It feels so good. I can feel myself soften like butter there. Don’t stop… Please, don’t stop!”

Dwalin wanted to remark that not all of Ori softened like butter, if he judged the solid press against his thigh correctedly when Ori rocked against him, but found his voice hoarse and could only emit roughly, “I won’t stop. Oh, my Ori; you’re so beautiful like this. Want to see you writhing before me more times. I always want to see you. Your feathers shimmer like your hair and always catch my eye. You’re so good for me to see every day. Let me be good for you. Let me please you. Ori, my love.”

Dwalin felt the spark that went through Ori’s body and worried that the last bit that he had let slip had ruined the moment and was too soon to utter. But then Ori let out in a shrill voice driven high by arousal, “ _Tschip_!”

“Pardon?” Dwalin croaked and slowed his motions on the delicate back.

But Ori seemed not to protest and was in fact oddly quiet and still all of a sudden.

Overcoming his own temptation, Dwalin stepped back and held the lad’s shoulders as he looked at his bowed face.

“Ori? What’s the matter?”

Ori’s downcast eyes might have been appealing to some dwarves who preferred calm companions, but now Dwalin would very much like to hear why Ori had stopped seeking pleasure, and if he was alright with Dwalin touching him like that and saying completely foolish things too soon.

Dwalin crouched a little and gently cupped Ori’s chin and guided his face up so he could see it better in the light of the torch nearby.

“Ori, tell me, please. Are you alright?”

The younger dwarf met his gaze at last and licked his lips nervously. “I…”

After a while when nothing followed, Dwalin coaxed carefully, “Yes?”

Ori opened his mouth, closed it, then inhaled and his wings began to stretch, pushing against Dwalin’s and forcing him to open up, lest both of them hurt their feathers. Ori turned his back on Dwalin and hid himself behind his wings and bent down to retrieve the blanket and fold it around his frame as if to conceal his exposed neck and the skin visible through the slit in the back of the tunic. At least he wasn’t throwing it over the sore wings.

Dwalin frowned, but didn’t approach because he never wanted to scare the younger dwarf. What had he done? Why had he made Ori feel like this?

Desolate and incomprehensive, Dwalin mumbled, “I apologize for my behaviour. If I did anything that felt wrong, I wish you would tell me so I can make amense.”

At that, Ori rotated on the spot but gaped in surprise before he protested with heat similar to Dori’s, “It wasn’t your fault! It was me. I _chirped_. Like a bird. I’m a _dwarf_.”

Dwalin emitted with a confused smile, “But you have wings, and you said how much similar to birds we are now. Birds sing. Perhaps you just got too excited and the bird spell in you was projected in yet another way.”

A mortified look passed over Ori’s flushed features and with the blanket clutched to his front by the elbows, his hands were free to cover his face. A mourning tone had Dwalin fighting to contain the smile at the sight of the blushing young dwarf.

“I’m so silly all the time, even when I don’t mean to. I’m pathetic and embarrassing myself.”

“Don’t say that. Ori, you _are_ beautiful. I should have said it before, but even now, with feathers and all, you are beautiful to me. You’re a young dwarf, which I should remember. You may react without control to stimulation and I’m sorry I made you feel embarrassment. I got too eager with massaging you…”

“I liked it,” Ori interrupted. Dwalin nibbled on his lip, looked down at the tips of his boots and scratched his severed ear, unsure of his footing in this changing conversation.

“Well, do you feel more flexible now?”

“I’m not tense anymore,” Ori confirmed.

Dwalin put one errand hand in his broad belt to prevent more straying hands from reaching Ori’s freckled and currently pink skin. The shift in his stance made the wings flap a little to keep him upright and Dwalin felt restless all of a sudden.

“Good. Keep the blanket off from now on, so you don’t hurt yourself. Cut wide, long holes in tunics. Well, I think it’s time for me to go. I promised to supervise the guard recruits soon and debate with the other lieutenants which candidate is the most suited for becoming another member of the vanguards in the future. I must get some rest before that.”

Ori nodded but looked a little disappointed nevertheless. “Go on then. I mustn’t keep you.”

Dwalin turned and got as far as to the entrance of the library before he spun and marched back with wings haughtily raised high and deterring all dwarves nearby from strolling into his path.

He rounded the corner to the corridor and saw Ori standing against the wall with head tipped back and studying the ceiling, in deep thought apparently. Dwalin’s heavy boots let out loud thumps that alerted Ori to his presence.

Ori gasped upon finding him returned so unexpectedly but Dwalin didn’t wait for him to say anything before he bowed and grasped Ori’s hand and raised it gently to his lips. His lips grazed the small knuckles, avoiding the ink spots on the fingertips, but his eyes were trained on Ori.

“I am determined to never leave you saddened and without a smile on your face,” Dwalin professed against Ori’s hand before he let go and Ori’s dimples came back in amusement and content. Only then did Dwalin compell himself to leave the library.

* * *

**Day 9-12**

Dwalin met the scribe more often from that day on and they got along. Dwalin made it his mission to see Ori every day and repeated the massage, but that never got so intense again.

After a few days Ori, with his artist eye, asked permission to draw Dwalin and his wings.

With red apples on his cheeks but with courage and determination in his raised gaze, he had reasoned before Dwalin, “If the wings will be gone in a few days then I would like to preserve and perpetuate the image of wings in our history forever, to be studied by other dwarves alongside my notes, Oin’s observations, and the testimony from the others in the Company. This is a unique opportunity and I can only hope that you as an active warrior would accept making a contribution to dwarven knowledge.”

Dwalin had bowed to meet Ori’s eyes straight and grinned which had put an end to Ori’s excited rambling. “For you, and for knowledge, I’ll put up with modelling. I hope the illustrations of me can be of use in the future.”

It turned out that both of them had free time that late afternoon and they decided to retire to Dwalin’s chamber in the palace where no-one would disturb them and Ori’s concentration.

Dwalin felt warmth rushing through his body as he led Ori into the rooms with the thankfully fairly clean floor and the made bed further in inside the bedchamber.

While Ori opened his satchel and made choices from his collection of bits of coal, paint, and parchment, Dwalin shed his outer cloak and lit the fire to ensure that heat and light would flood the room for a long time when neither of the dwarves would be able to move without risking the result of the illustrations.

Once Dwalin rose from the fireplace and turned, he solemnly took in how well the scribe fitted in his chamber, in his armchair, with rolls of empty parchment in his lap. Pillows supported Ori so the wings weren’t crushed and Dwalin cleared his throat to get things going before nervousness won over his confidence.

“That fire should last us one hour. So, how do you want me?”

Ori blushed but also clearly considered Dwalin’s frame and the scrutiny made Dwalin proud that he had kept his body strong and capable.

Ori lifted a pencil made out of coal and gestured with it at Dwalin’s wings. “Standing up would be ideal at first, to catch the dimensions of your wings compared to your body. You could stand at ease with hands hanging down. Face me at first and when I’m done with the oulines I will tell you to turn around. Your colours simply must be captured for the benefit of future generations. Tell me if you feel the need to take a break or if you’re uncomfortable.”

Dwalin didn’t feel the need to point out that having to stand guard on a wall during stormy winter nights had taught him to endure standing still for long spans of time, so he assumed the instructed position but Ori made a tentative humming.

“Actually, the shape alone of your impressive wings is fascinating, but I wonder if… if it would be possible to study the changed anatomy and measure the distances on your body without… your tunic. It would make the illustration truer to the reality and details. I imagine the muscles on your back would be interesting to study…” Ori trailed off and his gaze wavered when Dwalin began to cough.

After a deep breath of air, the warrior stammered a warning as he unclasped the belt around his belly that held the tunic inside the breeches and shifted the bracers from his broad shoulders, “There’ll be plenty of scars to ruin your drawing.”

“They’re part of you, as is this pair of wings for now. You’ll not ruin anything, Mr. Dwalin. On the contrary; I believe you’ll make everything better.”

Once his upper body was bared to the artist, Dwalin stood tall and tried to fasten his eyes on the wall behind the armchair, although he often found himself drifting to Ori who was bent over the progressing illustration he worked on.

At one point when Ori rested his hands and had a drink of water while Dwalin tended to the fire that warmed his exposed skin and the meaty parts of his wings, Dwalin asked over his shoulder, “Won’t your brothers miss you soon? It’s getting past sundown.”

A frank answer came when Ori admitted, “I told them I had to copy my notes about the wings for safety’s sake. That I would probably stay at the library until very late. They won’t come looking for me tonight.”

After another long session that lasted well into the night until Ori was content with his sketches and colours and Dwalin was really hungry after having been instructed to sit, lean, lay down and crouch with his wings either folded or stretched, they decided on sharing a meal.

Reluctant to simply let Ori leave after such a personal moment when Dwalin had bared himself to Ori’s scrutinizing gaze and clever hand, Dwalin dressed in a loose tunic and stepped outside his chamber to order a a servant to have a small but private meal to be delivered by the kitchen to his rooms.

Soon after Ori had put his tools and things back in the satchel’s many folds and pockets, the food arrived on a tray which Dwalin took by the door before nudging it until it closed. 

The two dwarves were treated to rye bread with salty butter, dry meat, steaming chips, cabbage rolls filled with minced meat, smooth cheese from summer-milk, sticky honey cake and raspberries filled with whipped cream. They washed down the plentiful of delights with a spicy wine to warm them down to the tips of their wings since they hadn’t moved that much during the painting session.

Ori didn’t turn down his half of the food as he heartedly grabbed snack after snack. They were reclined carefully in a small mountain of pillows on the floor to be able to eat comfortably and accommodate the wings at the same time.

“You are very strong, and the shimmer of your wings is an intriguing contrast to the pale scars on your skin...” Ori repeated his adoration of the older dwarf’s physique, while Dwalin noticed how their fingers bumped into each other more and more as they reached for the same bowls of food.

Somewhere between Dwalin smoking the last leaf in his pipe and confessing that he didn’t mind the wings that much now and that he understood and respected birds that roamed the sky freely but still cared for their delicate, sensitive wings, just like dwarves cared for their means of survival; hands, tools and weapons, and Ori plopping a honey cake between his lips but not noticing the sticky crumbs that were left in the corner of his mouth, Ori cupped a hand around Dwalin’s nape and Dwalin raised a finger to peel off the crumbs.

They sat close now, _too close_ , Dwalin thought dimly before Ori angled his face up and pressed his lips to Dwalin’s. Sweet honey met spicy smoke as Dwalin licked into Ori’s mouth and he began caressing the accessible body next to him.

Ori didn’t go home that night. In Dwalin’s defence, he didn’t take Ori to his bed, but what took place on the pillows where they sat comfortable with Dwalin’s greater wings folded over Ori's and creating a cocoon where only the two of them fitted, no-one but they knew, even if Dori, Nori, and Balin later had their suspicions.

But the prospect of meeting meddlesome brothers seemed like a distant, small matter when Dwalin later thought back on Ori in his lap, turned towards him, and only him; them moving in synch until they reached completion and even their wings were tingling with pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and as compensation for the wait, you get this juicy chapter. There's just one more chapter for this story which is mostly done, though my studies will be tiring until late January, so that's when I'll update I venture. Yeah, make the illustrations for science, Ori; for science! Also, I found this fact in the wiki page for Eurasian tree sparrows; The Eurasian tree sparrow has no true song, but its vocalisations include an excited series of tschip calls given by unpaired or courting males. And Dwalin’s golden eagle wants a mate… I had to insert this detail into the story, it was too good to pass on, he he. I live for comments, thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last days with wings, but isn't number 13 an unlucky number..?

**Day 13-14**

After having scraped his wings yet again in a doorway, and thinking back on Bofur’s impossible laziness by blaming his wings, Dwalin met up with Ori early the next day in Dori’s teashop to charm the elder brother with his charm and strong, assisting hands. And possibly to see Ori again after their night together and find themselves in a dark corner, if the opportunity arose.

Dwalin simply couldn’t resist being in Ori’s presence after the previous night which they had shared so intimately. This would be the start of proper courting, Dwalin decided while hefting a sack of tea leaves over his shoulder and readying himself to swing another up to the top shelf by the ceiling in the storage.

Dwalin asked through pants, “How come you take to your wings easier than the rest of us now that you’ve shed the blanket? I still lose my footing now and then, Thorin can scarcely fold his own, and Bofur claimes he can’t do mining with his. And at breakfast in the palace yesterday we all saw what happened when Kili tried to jump up from the table into the chain under the chandelier and his wings began to beat once he was in the air so he crashed into the porridge instead.”

Ori looked up from his notes on the quantity in the storage and leaned his hip against the doorway with far too much ease considering the brown-grey wings behind him.

Ori suggested hesitantly, “Well, I’m not an expert on these matters, but I may have come to the conclusion that the wings want to behave like those belonging to a bird but we are dwarves and cannot control them, or learn to, save for me then, apparently. I suppose I… accept them as part of me for now and that makes it easier to acclimate to my new form. Perhaps I have some of the tolerance by belonging to the next generation who grew up in the exile but then got our mountain back. We’re used to changing environments and opportunies.”

Dwalin rested the next sack on the middle shelf and kept it still by his chest while securing the knot keeping the content inside.

“Aye, that sounds about right. You’re a young dwarf able to be molded and adapt to new conditions faster.”

Ori waved his quill in protest and the wings fluttered, too. “But I had to learn a lesson, too with the adventure with the Company. To take a chance to live life. Much like a finally fledged, grown bird leaving the nest and flying for the first time in freedom, ready to find a mate.”

Dwalin gasped, then asked with a reverant tone, “Do you think so?”

Ori met his gaze right on and emitted breathlessly, “I do.”

***

Just after luncheon that day, the ominous echoes of distant bells sounded through Erebor and everyone’s eyes were drawn to the great shaft into the mines below ground level where the sound sent a warning.

Dwalin was soon leading the vanguard from the palace and met up with the forces from the training yard as they drew weapons from sheaths. Dwalin felt oddly light and bared without his heavy armour, but at least he had a simple harness with leather straps around his shoulders and armpits to protect his front, even if his back and wings remained exposed.

Dwalin tested the grip on Grasper and Keeper and loudly instructed the gathered audience to back away from the shaft so the soldiers could have the best positions, then they all awaited a report of what was happening. Was it a cave-in or a flooding? But no-one had felt the mountain tremble nor heard a rumbling. And no wave of miners appeared in the lifts whose ropes remained undisturbed, nor on the paths on the top levels in the shaft.

Just as Thorin commanded the guards to send down a small force of scouts to investigate, ropes began to move through one block. After a while, a dwarf appeared from below, smudged with dust and chest heaving from having hauled himself up in his lift to get back up even faster than the lift construction could pull him up.

He left his message even while still swinging in the lift over the shaft and looking at the king. “Goblins swarming the south-eastern tunnels! They broke through a wall in a drift we haven’t examined yet. They must lurk outside the kingdom in cliffs and find paths into Erebor through weak walls deep below ground. At least fifty of them when I last counted. The others are trying to fight them off, but they sent me to warn you. These are goblins that scale the walls by claws. They’re climbing the walls, getting closer to the surface!”

Dwalin immediately took charge when Thorin nodded at him. “We mustn’t let them out of the mine system, lest we have them invading our homes and threatening the lives of innocents. Did you fight any down there?” he called to the dwarf who gripped the ropes tightly as a few dwarves pulled his lift to the side.

“Some, but we didn’t want to part with our pikes or shovels; our only means to defend ourselves on our way up in the lifts. We couldn’t hurl the tools at them and lose them, even if we would have knocked a few of the scum down into the abyss.”

Echoes of screeching, foul creatures came from the mines and frightened the whole population of dwarves. The audience began to run homewards to gather weapons of their own and make sure their families were safe in one place. This left more room for Erebor’s forces and they broadened their stance around the great hole and waited.

The royal family had their bows prepared with arrows to fire at the first goblin showing itself on the walls below.

Then suddenly the first creatures appeared. They snarled while they like lizards were climbing vertically without effort. Their grey skin and round eyes along with the black, sharp, and filthy armour made them repulsive.

Dwalin yelled with a booming voice, “Stop them! Cut them down!” The forces answered his call by releasing arrows and throwing axes at the creatures and while many fell, some kept climbing.

A handful of goblins used the momentum at their last ascent by heaving themselves over the edge to be able to jump over the line of dwarves. Screeching with triumph and excitement, they jerked away from retaliation and began running bow-legged towards the carved homes.

“No,” Dwalin whispered and furiously fought to get there and prevent them from assaulting citizens who were less prepared to fight for their survival than the army.

His wings stayed fairly stretched on his sides so to be away from his swinging axes, but not too stretched to risk getting him harmed in the midst of battle. The enemies he came across stayed away, clearly wary of the sight of a winged dwarf; like worms crawling in the dirt to escape the hungry beak of their enemy in the sky.

There were many goblins now surfacing and all the guards were occupied in skirmishes around the shaft which meant that vulnerable gaps inevitably presented opportunities for some creatures to go through.

“Dwalin! Four went into the library!” one of the observant lieutenants yelled and Dwalin’s insides froze.

Ori was there, and the daily gathering of dwarflings learning to read and write runes. Had they heard the bells and gotten out?

He gestured with his axe that dripped black blood at two sturdy guards. He didn’t dare to spare anyone else from the circle surrounding the shaft and protecting the rest of Erebor. The second wave could come at any time.

“You, and you; with me to the library! Don’t let them reach the dwarflings. Baruk Khazâd!”

***

It was too easy to track the way of the goblins in the seemingly deserted library. Overturned tables, spilled ink on the marble floor and cruched chairs met the eyes of the warriors who hurriedly jogged further inside.

Dwalin led them to the section where the dwarflings usually had their lessons and that was when they all heard wild shrieks and responding shouts of horror. They sprinted into the section and suddenly, across the labyrinth of several reading stations, Dwalin saw a scene that would burn a scar into his memory.

Grouped together on the top of a massive bookcase stocked with books next to a wall stood his Ori and five or six dwarflings; little more than toddlers. Below them, four foul goblins howled, jumped and swung swords close to dwarven fingers.

The dwarflings and Ori were picking up books from the top shelf and chucking them at the goblin’s heads.

One by one, the snarling goblins attempted to climb the bookcase and reaching with sharp claws before they were hit in the face and dropped down. But the goblins kept climbing while biting with their jagged fangs and trying to snatch dwarflings.

One creature caught a brown-haired dwarfling by the ankle and tugged with an evil grin. A frightened gasp left the little one when he fell to his knees with one foot hanging over the side of the furniture in the grip of the enemy.

The goblin got excited and clinged more to the shelves with an open gap snapping dangerously near the lad.

Dwalin was stunned in his mind even as he moved closer through the room; the goblins were intending to eat the dwarflings alive if they caught them.

Then Ori grabbed the distressed dwarfling and kicked at the offending wrist until the goblin had to let go and fell down again.

Ori stopped all the struggles of the other dwarflings and hauled them back against the wall behind him, and flared his wings to conceal them and hinder the goblins from immediately reaching them.

But that didn’t stop the hungry goblins from trying to climb the shelves and Dwalin saw how Ori closed his eyes as the dwarflings let out frightened cries. Thankfully the bookcase was high but sturdy and the goblins too eager to try to with united strength tip it over.

One goblin however stood back from its raving fellows and unslung a crude crossbow, with eyes intent on Ori he drew a rusty arrow from his quiver. The goblin was intending to take him out in a coward way from afar while Ori was defenceless.

Before Dwalin could think of anything that would distract the goblins across the room from their target, he could only bear witness to what Ori did.

And what he did was to stand up straight with his face set, turn right and start marching along the top of the bookcase. Downy tips of the wings swept like caresses over the faces of the sobbing dwarflings who watched him go.

Ori’s purposeful marching turned to running and once he was at the edge of the bookcase, Ori _leapt_.

Ori leapt into the air; his wings stretched further than anyone had seen them be before, and Ori flew.

He soared through the air with the speed he had gained but took a sharp turn and aimed himself straight into the midst of goblins like a crashing bird.

With his landing, Ori was burying a tiny quill-knife into a goblin’s skull, and then everything was a chaos of flailing goblins, wings, and screams from the dwarflings that huddled together on the bookcase.

Dwalin and his force rushed over, Dwalin skidding over the surface of a table to get there faster and one of the guards jumped on a chair before throwing himself over the overwhelmed goblins like a descending hawk bringing death upon its prey.

Gingerly, Ori arose from the midst with black blood on his hands instead of ink, apparently dazed from his feat and sudden descent but ignorant of the threat from behind.

Dwalin yelled, “Ori! Spread them!”

The wings stretched in a horizontal row and Dwalin threw a small axe through the narrow space between Ori’s ear and the wings, into a goblin behind him.

Once Dwalin reached Ori, the goblins were all dead.

The other guards hurried to the bookcase to coax the dwarflings into jumping down into their arms where they would be safe. Dwalin would have been there himself to scoop up upset dwarflings if it wasn’t for his priority right here. The dwarflings were unharmed. But one dwarf was injured.

As Dwalin clasped his hands around Ori’s shoulders, the scribe’s knees buckled and Dwalin lowered him in a controlled way to the floor.

Groaning and gritting his teeth while rolling to his side to free the wings, Ori was overcome by pain which Dwalin tried to locate by looking him over.

“Ori? Ori, can you hear me?” Dwalin called with an anxious weight in his belly at the sight of one bent wing and many ruffled feathers that were angled the wrong way. How would this injury affect Ori when no-one knew how it felt to have wings wounded? Otherwise, Ori kept his left arm close to his chest.

Frowning, Dwalin lifted it a little but was met with a cry and let Ori pull back the possibly broken wrist to his chest.

“Ow, ow, ow! It hurts,” Ori whimpered and clenched his eyes close.

Oddly calm after the battle, Dwalin found himself able to comfort the living love of his life even as despairing terror filled him at what could have happened.

“Shush, my Ori. I know it hurts badly. We’re going to heal this and you’ll be fine again.”

While the distant sounds reached them of bells chiming to announce the victory of Erebor’s folk, Dwalin released a sigh of relief. That meant Ori could get treatment soon without a battle going out outside the library.

Tears trickled from the closed eyes of the wounded dwarf and Ori moaned and slurred a little when he asked, “The dwarflings…?”

Dwalin decided to leave his main axes there on the floor to be retrieved later, and regretted that he wore no cloak to wrap Ori in for warmth. Who knew that Ori’s restricting blanket actually could have been of use right now?

Instead, Dwalin slid a hand over Ori’s hair and cupped his face with a dusty hand.

“All safe with my guards. Not a mark on them after your protection. You however are a different matter, so I must tell you now to raise your arms over your head, even if it hurts. Trust me.”

Fighting for breath at the stabs of pain through his body, Ori obediently stretched his arms over his head and Dwalin bent low and took hold of Ori’s hips.

“That’s it. Let me help you now. Keep still. I will move you a little, so be prepared for that. I’ve got you, Ori.”

Ori nodded and laid his head down pliantly on the floor and Dwalin waited for his next relaxing exhale before he swiftly bowed his head and lifted Ori onto one shoulder and quickly got to his feet to find balance again, aided by his stretched wings that angled to the other side as much as possible. They also made way for the top of Ori’s wings pointing listlessly towards the floor.

While hanging over him, Ori moaned weakly and Dwalin steadied the grip on his middle.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got your weight. You have your wings with you. We’re going to Oin now to heal you.”

Ori came to once Dwalin reached the palace and went for the infirmary.

Other dwarves, relatives to those injured and a few with scratches and minor injuries, stood back to let them through, but no-one said anything taunting about the wings.

“So embarrassing, being carried over a shoulder like a bag of grain," Ori complained but Dwalin snapped, “Shut up and lay still until Oin has taken a look at you.”

“The view here however isn’t so bad.”

“Don’t be cheeky just because you flew. It was reckless of you to crash into a group of armed enemies,” Dwalin pointed out.

“I had to save the dwarflings. I hadn’t yet seen you arriving. What would you have done in my place?”

Dwalin sighed and abandoned his ire while he was directed by a healer to put Ori in a prepared bed in a private room before the examination. Dwalin carefully dislodged his injured burden from his secure grip and placed Ori in a sitting position which was probably the best right now considering all his injuries.

Dwalin sat down beside him and kept him upright with an arm slung around his back, below the soft, tousled wings.

Dwalin admitted after a moment while Ori gathered his wits after the motion, “I would probably have done the same thing, though not fly as much as dumping myself on them, given my lousy wing control. But I worried about you.”

Ori tried to wipe his dirty fingers on his tunic and murmured, “I don’t usually carry weapons to work. I don’t even have my slingshot there. But the dwarflings had to be saved. I had to do it.”

“You’ll be a hero when the dwarflings tell their parents and come evening the whole of Erebor will know what you did for them.”

“Really? Me, a hero?” Ori asked gently and looked up queringly at Dwalin.

“Ori, besides luring a dragon in Erebor, you have now accomplished being outnumbered by four goblins, protected six dwarflings, and come out the victor. And you _flew_. I would say this is material for a hero legend that will surpass any notes you have about the rest of the winged Company.”

Ori ducked his head and pressed it to Dwalin’s broad chest but grunted at the hard harness found there.

Ori muttered, “You’re the warrior. I’m a scribe, for Mahal’s sake. Not a hero.”

Dwalin let out a soft chuckle. “Is it that easy to abandon the heroic qualities in you? You are a heroic scribe, or a documenting hero; just take your pick, brave one.”

***

While Oin treated Ori’s wounds, Dwalin was sent outside the room to wait and there was where Thorin found him later picking at the golden-brown feathers. Thorin no longer wore all pieces of his armour and informed Dwalin of the brief battle.

“We suffered no losses thanks to the warning so we could be prepared. We chased them down into the mine, with Bofur in the lead, so he can apparently fit his wings in the tunnels when it matters. The miners below met us there and together we destroyed the goblins. Bofur has taken it upon himself to secure the hole in the southeastern tunnel from whence they came. Erebor is safe again.”

Then Thorin leaned closer and put a hand around Dwalin’s arm while mentioning the incident in the library. “I hear Ori shielded dwarflings at his working place. Is it true that he flew?”

“And brought just about as much pain upon himself as to those worms,” Dwalin confirmed seriously.

Thorin looked to the closed door. “I will ensure he gets the attention he deserves from our most prominent healers. And I believe it will cheer you up to know that Fili and Kili will be so very jealous when they hear this story of a flying Ori.”

Dwalin groaned. “You’ll have to chain them to the floor or put them in a proper birdcage to stop them from attempting the same folly.”

A noise disturbed the pair and as they turned to the door, Oin passed through it, seemingly without a trouble in the world.

“Oin, how fares our hero?” Dwalin asked eagerly and Oin produced a content sound.

“Well, Dori will be surely upset at seeing his brother like this. There’s a sprained wrist, a few scraps on his face and arms. The right wing may be broken; I cannot tell. However, to a bird, this would have been fatal out in the wild. I dare not pull anything right, if I’m wrong and breaks it even more. I can make it hurt less, but I urged Ori to not move it anymore. And lastly; he’ll never fly again for the last hours he’ll have the wings if Gandalf returns tomorrow as he said he would.”

“Can I see him?” Dwalin wondered while dismissing the restless flutter of his wings as worry from hearing of Ori’s sorry state.

Oin exchanged a look with Thorin and nodded. “A short visit before he sleeps. I’ve given him medicine so it shouldn’t take long. In you go, laddie, before Nori and Dori storm inside.”

Dwalin left the others’ company in favour of stepping into the small room and taking in a clean and bandaged scribe resting on his belly on the bed with a blanket over his back but not covering the sloping wings that dragged a little against the floor with each breath.

“Dwalin,” Ori greeted happily in his calm way and Dwalin got down on the chair beside Ori’s head.

While Dwalin couldn’t be more thankful that fate hadn’t claimed his lover’s life, the immobilized shape on the bed burned itself into his memory beside the image of Ori throwing himself off a bookcase.

Dwalin teared up and reached for Ori’s unharmed hand and kissed the knuckles.

“Oin told me what he found after his examination. Oh, Ori; your wings… I’m so sorry.”

Ori however smiled a little and gazed at him before a yawn left him. “It’s fine. Maybe I can fly with you anyway after the wings are gone?”

“What… what do you mean with _fly_? We’ll just be dwarves then.”

Ori only closed his eyes and mumbled sleepily, “Be my mate, Mr. Dwalin, and we’ll be a flying pair. _Tscirp_.”

The young dwarf fell asleep and Dwalin placed his hand back on the mattress and whispered anyway, “Fine, we’ll talk about this later. Now go to sleep.”

***

The next day the grey wizard returned as promised, and in a better mood than he had been in before he left last time.

Due to Ori being ordered to bed-rest, the whole winged Company received the wizard in Ori’s room at the infirmary.

Gandalf dusted off his hat and asked, “You’ve all learnt your lesson, I trust?“

“We all behaved well, though Ori was the wild one attempting crazy stunts,” Kili gladly gossiped and shot an accusing glare at his friend who sputtered, “I was not! I only flew because I protected _chicks_!”

The others began to laugh with him at his bird-enthusiastic manner while Ori stammered that he had meant dwarflings, _dwarflings_.

Gandalf smiled mysteriously and remarked, “You grew spirit and matureness, Ori. I’m glad to see you daring to leave the nest and care for others.”

“I have found love,” Ori confirmed boldly and Gandalf made an approving sound.

“Then may you both be happy,” he wished before he glanced at Dwalin, but the wizard’s heavy gaze was gone before Dwalin reflected on how Gandalf could have known that he was the one sharing love with Ori. Were they really that obvious?

Then Gandalf gathered the dwarves close and murmured something to his staff.

“Sleep tonight and wake up as dwarves again,” Gandalf instructed and Dwalin thought briefly that it had been a strange fortnight he never could have imagined would happen.

That night he said goodbye to the wings on his back, but woke up feeling happier than ever with Ori in his arms.

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life prevented me from finishing this part, but now, here it is! My visual imaginary for the attack on Ori and the dwarflings in the library was inspired by Disney's Bambi when a cornered Faline presses herself against a wall on a cliff to get away from hunting dogs below. The goblins are similar to the ones in Moria who climbed vertical pillars. I hope you enoyed this little story and I really tried to include the wings as elements in the story, since that was the AU-kink I chose. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this, and feel free to comment. Dwalin has the wings of a golden eagle. The reason for this will be explained later, but many of the feathers do match his dark-brown hair IMO.


End file.
